You shall not pass

She had read about it in Imladris, but for the life of her she could not remember what a Balrog looked like. The elf's terrified face told her how bad it was, and Gandalf's reaction did not really help.

- "Durin's bane", exclaimed Gimli as he fell with his face in his hands.

- "There you go, Gimli", really helpful, she hissed through ground teeth.

Boromir and Strider exchanged a meaningful look. If the first one had no idea what the legend was about, he didn't need it to agree with his fellow ranger. The escape route was clear of Goblins. A reddish glow was advancing on the empty hall, and the company took off running once more. Frances was too eager to follow. They exited through a door, and started descending a flight of narrow stairs with no railings. Gandalf closed the doors behind them, and motioned for the company to go ahead. As they descended, the unconscious hobbit started stirring on the ranger's shoulder.

- "Frodo !", Aragorn cried, calling Frances' attention.

She granted him just a look, marveling that he was alive before flames engulfed the whole cave.

- "Shit", she grumbled.

The hobbit gave her a wide-eyed look before the ranger ushered him forward. His terror drove him to run as if he had never been unconscious.

The narrow bridge of Khazad-dum was in sight, and it held the key to their escape. Frances kept her gaze fixed on the bridge carved directly into the rock, its small arch granting passage between the east and the west as a huge chasm separated the two parts of Moria. Above them only darkness, below them not much better.

But now the fire and smoke was so present that she lost sight of the oblivion extending below them. And to make matters worse, arrows started flying around them. The Orcs were everywhere, hidden behind pillars and cracks, waiting for them to run across the emptiness of the cliff. As they progressed, the elf prince managed to land a few arrows of his own. Some goblins fell down into the great void, forcing the others to take cover.

Such skill... and so little time to acknowledge it. Frances ran as if the devil was tailing her. Which, in retrospective, wasn't so far from the truth.

They descended the last stairs, and they started to cross the bridge. Arrows whizzed past them, and it was only a miracle that they did not land in their flesh. There was a clang on Boromir's shield, and another arrow went through Gandalf's hat, staying there as a beacon. Frances tried to not look down as she ran, she was so tired that any wrong step would send her stumbling into the darkness. Relief washed through her body as she climbed up the first stairs on the other side, but it was short lived. Another growl made the rocks tremble. They all turned around, eyes wide, to see the Barlog materialize in front of their very eyes. Darkness and flames turned into an enormous beast, its wings expanded at his sides a dozen feet above the ground.

Never in her life had Frances seen such a monster, and she understood Legolas' fear. Her stomach plummeted down, her limbs shaking. She would never forget it, this tower of fire and shadow. A demon. Her stomach clench, pure terror filling her.

But Gandalf held his ground. Standing on the edge of the bridge, he lifted his sword, the glowing Glamdring. On his other hand something was shining, its brilliance so powerful that it seemed to keep the creature at bay.

- "You shall not pass", he said, and his voice was imperious.

Strider and Boromir unsheathed their blades again, and ran back to the wizard with a cry.

- "Gondor ! Elendil !"

Frances was now quaking in fear; what did they think to achieve, two lone men facing such a monster ? But Gandalf did not hear them, his attention fully set on the winged beast. A burning whip hung in its hand, and the creature lashed at them with a mighty blow. But the wizard brandished his glowing sword, and blocked it as he cried:

- "You shall not pass ! I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor."

His voice echoed in the caves, deep below the bridge and high into the nothingness. Tones of hope and power, and yet, Frances was still frozen upon the roughly carved stairs.

- "You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun. Go back to the shadow! You cannot pass."

The Balrog seemed to consider it for a moment, and then he let out a roar of flames that left the company trembling. Gandalf did not move, but as his enemy advanced on him his staff descended upon the bridge.

- "You shall not pass!", repeated the wizard with force.

For a moment Frances though that the Balrog would engulf Gandalf in its flames, but a sinister cracked resonated in the cave. And then the bridge gave out. The company gasped. Seeing such a thick arch of rock crack under the blow was a sight to behold in itself, but the fall of the Balrog was another one even more impressive.

The beast roared and tried to flap its wings, but the darkness engulfed it nonetheless as it disappeared below them. Frances sighed, and so did the hobbits beside her. The devilish creature had been dealt with. But the sound of a cracking whip echoed in the emptiness, and they all witnessed the extremity encasing Gandalf' leg.

He fell down, hard, and was dragged to the edge of the bridge. Frances cried in fear as his body tumbled. But then, his fingers found a crack in the rock and he levelled them with a hard look. Before hope could settled in her chest, he ordered:

- "Flee !"

And then he was gone, falling into darkness where the Balrog had disappeared only a moment ago. Frodo cried out his name, and started running to the bridge. Strider caught him just in time. It was a sorry sight, but they needed to escape or Gandalf's sacrifice would have been for naught.

Frances was quite numb, not realizing quite yet that the wizard was gone. She climbed up the stairs, and ran with the company. There was nothing more she wished than fresh air. Now that the flames were gone, she smelt the dampness in the air, could feel the darkness of the corridor, the emptiness of her heart. They ran again and again, until her legs burnt and her steps faltered, not quite sure to be safe yet even if the only passage to the East had been cut definitely.

The afternoon light greeted them at the end of an endless hallway. But after five days craving for it, nor Legolas nor Frances had the heart to acknowledge its glory. The hobbits were crying on the ground, their little hearts torn apart by Gandalf's death. Frances caught the elf's expression for an instant ; lost, totally thrown off by the concept of death. The young lady did not cry, she was too numb to feel anything.

The wound in her wrist throbbed painfully even if the bleeding had ceased. Gone was the adrenaline that kept her moving. Exhaustion threatened to take over, and her feet ordinarily so assured on the uneven ground were now trembling with the effort.

When Strider hailed them, she could only nod her acceptance. The company followed without questions. They needed to get to safety before nightfall.